


Backbeat

by chiisai_kitty



Category: Southern Vampire Mysteries - Harris
Genre: A/H, A/U, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-03-17
Updated: 2010-07-18
Packaged: 2017-10-08 01:49:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/71454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chiisai_kitty/pseuds/chiisai_kitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eric Northman's band, Area Five, just lost some members and his pride is wounded. Fellow bandmember Bill suggests his best friend, bassist Sookie Stackhouse. Details inside. AH/AU, We're going to Florida!, and some OOC on Sookie's part, the good kind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Get Off

**A/N: Hey there. Thanks for clicking this to everyone, whether it was from an alert email, from Twitter, or from the SVM fic main page. Let me start this by explaining a bit about this story. I like music (who doesn't) and I'm going to a show where Sick Puppies will be playing next month. So in my research on them, I discovered that their bassist is female. Her name is Emma Anzai, and she's pretty badass. So I got to thinking (which is always a dangerous endeavor), realizing that while there are a few stories out there that have Sookie singing in some way shape or form, few have her as a badass rocker chick, so that's where this comes in.**

**Also, there are/will be a lot of rock/music references, so I'll try and explain some at the bottom. Any more questions, feel free to ask.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the SVM characters, or any songs that will be mentioned in this story.**

**Special thanks to the ladies on Twitter.**

**For those about to rock, we salute you. And I give you…Backbeat.**

**—–**

**Chapter One- I Get Off**

EPOV

 I sat at the round, wooden table, drumming my fingers against the resin veneer. The girl on stage was singing about getting off and while I should have been devising a way to get to her after her performance, I was desperately trying to tune her out and not break something. I was more successful at tuning out whatever the hell it was that my friend and fellow drummer, Tray, was talking about.

 "Eric, man?" Looking up at him, I could tell that this wasn't the first time he had addressed me with that phrase. I nodded to signal that he had my attention. "I was trying to ask you if you knew where Bill went."

 I shrugged; I really had no idea where that fuckwad had gone. I also had no idea why he was even in the band in the first place. Maybe it was because he played guitar like Slash…maybe it was because he was Sophie's best friend…yeah, probably that.

 But now both Sophie, our second guitarist, and Andre, our bassist and second vocalist, had skipped out on us to 'go solo'. With each other. Mostly likely in the back of Andre's van. Which leads me to our third problem: lack of equipment transportation. A second guitar we could take or leave, but being sans bassist, male vocals and a way of hauling equipment? Absolutely not.

 So here Tray and I sat, in The Social, at a radio station-sponsored Battle of the Bands. Why we came is beyond me, I think Bill suggested it, but we were currently listening to the winning band. Naturally, not being able to compete was enough to set me off, but it was who won rather than the fact that we didn't. We could have blown the Rock 'n' Roll Spice Girls right off the fucking stage.

 The band that won was none other than Hadley's Comet (clever, I know…), the only other band from my hometown of Daytona Beach. Tray lived there too, but he was currently between bands. He tagged along to see if anyone was in need of a new drummer. It was a shame he couldn't play anything with strings…he was a hell of a drummer.

 The sound of raging applause was my signal that Hadley and her harem were finished with their victory song. It was also my beacon to Bill, who had made his way to the stage (an impressive feat), only to catch a girl flinging herself off of it. Why anyone would fling themselves at Bill was beyond me, but it definitely made sense why he wanted to come now. It seemed that Hadley's Comet managed to recruit a Lzzy Hale Spice, only blonder. I was busy studying the intricacies of the red and black mini dress she was wearing when I noticed Bill was leading her over to our table.

 "Eric. I have someone I want you to meet. This is Sookie Stackhouse, the bassist I was telling you about." Oh yeah, her.

 "Sookie 'stellar bassist' Stackhouse? Yeah, you mentioned her. And like I said when you did, there's no room in our band for girls and their girly shit drama." Rude? Definitely. Immature? Most likely. I really didn't care either way; after Sophiegate I was over chick rockers and I didn't care who knew. Even if Bassist Sookie was easy on the eyes.

 "Pam's a girl and you're okay with her." Bill. So observant. Bastard.

 "Pam gets more pussy than you do, Compton." I glanced over at Sookie, who was trying her damnedest not to look appalled at my frank statement. The corner of my mouth turned up in a smirk. "Regardless, no more girls," I continued. Standing up, I looked over Bill's head (not a hard thing to do) to find Hadley's hot little frontwoman, Dahlia.

 "Well, it's been real, Bill. If Sticks gets his head out of his ass anytime soon, you know where to find me," said Sookie, giving Bill a quick hug and a peck on the cheek. She nodded to Dahlia before disappearing in the throng of people. Sticks, huh?

 Bitch.

 Admittedly horny, however. Interesting.

 Ah, Dahlia.

 I slipped my arm around the redhead's bare shoulders. "I'm not making concessions for some chick you're banging, Bill," I said, turning to him. "Find me a real bassist." I saw him nod as I lead Dahlia towards the door.

—

SPOV

 Winning felt fantastic. Even Sticks couldn't fuck that up. And he was a douche. A big one.

 Find him a real bassist. Psh. So he didn't think I was good enough. Fine, he could wallow in bassist-less agony for the rest of his band's existence, which wasn't looking like too much longer now that they were down two people. At least that's what Bill told me. He's pretty upset about it.

 I couldn't find a redeeming quality in Eric the entire time I endured his girl-hating monologue. Everything he said was a big load of shit, except that part about Bill's lack-o-pussy. That part was pretty much on the money. Only I was pretty sure Eric didn't know why.

 Bill's my best friend. He's also gay. Severely in the closet, but gay. I was the only one who knew. I even offered to be his beard once, but he declined. Most people thought we were together anyway. It was pretty evident that it was Eric thought.

 And that brings me back to Eric. Damn it. Him and his precious band.

 I remember the first time I saw Area Five play. I was a senior in high school. Bill had been part of the band since its inception, but wouldn't let me come see him play until they had an "actual gig". So I waited.

 Watching Area Five was actually what inspired me to start playing. Bill told me that they were called Area Five because there were five of them, but I was convinced that it was because of their diversity. They were a nice blend of five genres: alternative, metal, ska, a little bit of pop-rock, and a blend of hard rock. It was like listening to an iPod on shuffle.

 They were also a little bit like Guitar Hero in that they had two singers: a male and a female. Some songs were male-driven, some female, and some were duets. It set them apart. I wondered how they were going to handle the loss of the man part of that.

 I wandered around, finding Hadley manning her band's merch table. She was surrounded by a group of giggly scene girls who were buying the newest neon t-shirts. There was also a buttload of other people around the table, so I ducked around a few to emerge on the other side.

 "Hey, cuz. Why you still slumming' with us? Thought Bill was inducting you into Area Five or some shit." Hadley smiled at me. Even though the two bands were die-hard rivals, she was happy that I'd have the chance to actually join a band, instead of just filling in for Tara when her mom got especially drunk.

 "Negatory," I replied. "Eric decided to live up to his douche bag reputation rather than save his band from the seemingly inevitable breakup." I wasn't tooting my own horn, I was just going on what Bill had told me. No bass/guitar/vocals meant no gigs, no gigs meant no band.

 "Asshat," Arlene, the fiery little guitarist, piped up as she handed someone change. "His loss." I smiled and nodded at her.

 We continued selling things for a few comfortable, silent minutes. I had just handed off a pair of CDs to a couple when Hadley spoke again. "Have you seen Dahlia? I haven't seen her since the show, and she's supposed to be helping."

 "She left with Eric shortly after he blew me off." I rolled my eyes. I had nothing against Dahlia, she was a lot of fun, she just thought with the wrong head…err, or whatever the female equivalent of that was. She was a lot like my brother in that regard. Speaking of…

 "Hey sis, hey Had. Sook, I was just getting ready to take off, that little redheaded singer of Had's still around?" Oh, Jason. When will you ever learn?

 "She left…with Eric," Hadley cut in. "But it's not as if she'd be leaving with you." She snorted. It was true, Dahlia was the one female that wouldn't give Jason the time of day. Jason didn't get it though; he'd keep always finding some excuse to 'happen to be' at practices.

 Thankfully, Bill chose that moment to pop up and save me. I didn't want to be around for the argument that was sure to break out between the two of them. It always happened.

 "Sook, ready to go?" Bill asked, sliding around the like, five people remaining around the table.

 "Never readier," I responded, grabbing my jacket from the chair where I left it before the show. "Bye Hadley, Arlene. Jason, go home."

 Arlene pulled her attention from the impending Stackhouse family fight to look my way. "Bye, Sook. Oh, hey! Are we still on for our thing tomorrow night?"

 "Definitely." I waived at her and started walking away with Bill. I looked over at him. "Are you going to be able to come?"

 "Yeah. Eric cancelled yet another practice to 'talent scout'," said Bill, air quotes and all. "He'll probably end up coming with me. Sorry."

 "Don't be. It'll just be another chance for me to rub in how fucking fantastic I am." I shot a sideways smile at Bill and he laughed.

 "God, I wouldn't miss that for the world."

—–

**So there's chapter one. A short little ditty, but it just didn't feel right getting into the next day in this chapter.**

**So let me know what you think.**

**Oh, and I drank the Twitter Kool-Aid, something I never, ever thought I'd do. So if you want to get to know me, or just hang out with the lovely ladies that write/read the fics on here, add me, I'm chiisai_kitty (shocking, right?).**

**Rock-tionary:  
Slash: Guns and Roses guitarist. He's pretty famous, but I thought I'd put that out there.  
Lzzy Hale: Frontwoman of Halestorm, recently voted the "Sexiest Woman in Metal", who sings the song, "I Get Off", where the title comes from. It's also the song that Hadley's Comet performs at the opening of the chapter. I also don't own it.**

**The playlist for Backbeat can be found here: ** [ **http://www.playlist.com/playlist/19369853707** ](http://www.playlist.com/playlist/19369853707)


	2. A Taste of Honey

**A/N: Back for chapter two! Yay! I know that this is still awfully short, but once again, didn't want to move onto the next day just yet. So this is a disco-inspired chapter, which should be both fun and random, lol. Kind of a little bit of plot progression, plus the intro of Pam, so it's all good. A big thanks to everyone for reading/reviewing/alerting the story, the response has been pretty fantastic *warm fuzzies*. Ok, well I think that's all I had to say, so I'll meet you at the bottom.**

**Enjoy!**

**—–**

**Chapter Two- A Taste of Honey**

EPOV

 Why I kept following Bill places was beyond me. And to a fucking variety talent show of all places. Little Dahlia had mentioned something about being here though, so it might not be a total bust.

 Bill, Tray, and I had just made it to the table when I discovered that this little variety show had a theme: disco. There was even a miniature disco ball hanging over every other table. _Cute_.

 Someone blonde was approaching the table. "What can I get you guys…hey! What the hell are you guys doing here?" I looked up at the speaker. Pam.

 "Could ask you the same thing," Bill responded.

 "Just got a job here," replied Pam. "Needed something to do with myself, you know?" She shot me a pointed look.

 "We will have another practice, Pam, don't worry." I matched her look. "Now please tell me you serve beer here." She nodded and scooted toward the counter.

 I looked toward Bill. "What the hell are we doing here?" Bill opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by someone sliding into our booth at the same time Pam delivered our beers. It was Dahlia, and she was wearing some kind of hot pants bodysuit number. Mmm.

 "Hey guys," she started, smiling and twirling a lock of her two-toned red hair. "Here for the show?" Tray was nodding like an idiot; Bill just smiled. What the hell kind of talent show were they running here? Dahlia turned to me. "What? Not excited?"

 "I might be if I knew why the fuck we were here," I pointed out as calmly as possible.

 "It's a secret," she giggled, and I swore she winked at Bill. I crossed my arms. It was imposing more than pouty. Dahlia was only supposed to conspire with me.

 Sure, we were friends with benefits, but we were friends first. Like playing video games and watching Manswers kind of friends. Who also fucked from time to time. Whatever. She was a cool chick. What was not-so-cool was that she was obviously keeping something from me. Something that Bill knew.

 I was just about to say something to her when she popped up from her seat, announcing that she had to be on stage. Well, at least I'd be finding out the surprise soon enough.  
—

SPOV

 I looked up from where I was sitting tuning my guitar to see Dahlia returning backstage.

 "Eric's here," she casually commented. I knew she knew about my grand mal rejection because she was really good friends with Eric and, well, everyone fucking knew about it. I also knew she had some kind of pull with Eric, but I wasn't that desperate to join his damn band. He could just see for his own damn self how much I wasn't worth rejecting.

 "Excellent," I responded. She smiled at me and winked.

 "You guys ready for this thing?" asked Arlene as she approached, guitar slung across her back. Her outfit matched mine, we were both clad in 70s-style yellow leather vests with three ties across the front. And nothing underneath. I was never more thankful for double-stick tape. But we looked hot. Dahlia was wearing a yellow vintage bathing suit that had flowers and other designs on it. It may have been a bathing suit, but it looked like a catsuit that had shorts instead of pants. It was pretty awesome.

 I nodded at Arlene, pulling my own strap over my head. I was a little worried about the logistics of the revealing top and my guitar strap, so I added a couple more strips of tape where it'd count. I took one last look in the mirror, making sure my Farrah Fawcett was still properly flippy.

 The original plan was to have Hadley on drums, but she had backed out a couple of days ago in order to take a babysitting job. So we were using the drummer from the club's house band. We'd never rehearsed with him before, but that was the only thing I was nervous about. Well, that and the possible appearance of the girls.

 When we walked onto the stage, the curtains were still drawn and our drummer, Christian, was already set up. I walked over to my spot and got plugged in, strummed a couple times for good measure, then looked up above us to see a huge disco ball hanging above us. _Cute_.

 Disco's not really my thing. Never has been. But I have a deep, resounding love for one disco song in particular: A Taste of Honey's "Boogie Oogie Oogie." It was the first song I ever mastered on bass that I was super proud of ("Smoke on the Water" was the first song ever, but I don't really count it). Not only is the song mostly bass-driven, but their bassist was female. That's pretty damn cool in my opinion.

 So that's why we were here, to perform it. I dragged Arlene into it because I needed her, and I asked Dahlia because I can't carry a tune in a fucking paper bag. The costumes were Dahlia's idea. I was a little worried at first when she suggested them, but it worked out.

—

EPOV

 About five minutes had passed since Dahlia had left our table. Two more passed before the lights dimmed a little more and Pam got up on stage.

 "You guys are here for disco night, so we might as well give you one." The audience started to cheer and Pam pushed her hands toward the floor, signaling them to take it down a notch. "Now before you guys go crazy, let me introduce our first act. These three girls have wicked talent and they're gonna take you straight back to the 70s," which few people in the room were even alive for, "with 'Boogie Oogie Oogie.'" Seriously?

 Sure enough, the curtain swung back to reveal Dahlia, Arlene, and Sookie in 70s style clothes. As Sookie started to play the well-known bass line, I shot Bill a look. He just shrugged in response. I wanted to deck him.

 Turning my attention to the stage, I watched Dahlia dancing with Sookie. The two were writing against each other…well as much as they could with Sookie holding her bass. Okay, now I was intrigued, disco or not.

 My eyes roamed over Sookie, finally taking it what she was wearing. She had on purple hot pants and a yellow vest. That's it. I started to ponder how everything was staying in place when I felt a presence hanging over the back of my side of the booth. I turned around; Pam.

 "She's something, isn't she?" Was everyone jumping on the 'get Sookie Stackhouse in my band' bandwagon? I mean, I knew Pam and Sookie were classmates, but I didn't they really talked or anything. But maybe they did. Who knew?

 "Something is an accurate word, Pam."

 "Pull the stick out of your ass, Eric. She's fucking phenomenal. Like fifty times better than Andre. Dicksuck," she muttered under her breath.

 "I meant it when I said no more girls."

 "Eric…"

 "Drop it. Don't you have a job to do?" Pam looked like she was about to say something else, but instead closed her mouth. She popped me in the arm with her little tray before leaving the table.

 When I looked back up at the stage, the girls were wrapping up the song. Looking to Compton once more, I said, "Well that was exhilarating. So much so, I'm calling a practice session for tomorrow afternoon. What do you say, Compton?"

 Bill looked like a deer in the headlights. "Uh, yeah, sure." I nodded in Tray's direction to signify that he was more than welcome to attend.

 I'll admit it, I had an ulterior motive in calling that practice. If I knew anything at all about Bill, coupled with his current scheming, he'd play his role in my new little plan just fine.

—–

**Hey again! Big thanks to my special ladies on Twitter, cause they're basically the shit. If you're not there, you're square. JK! But you should totally join us, we have some really crazy discussions on there. It's a blast. I'm chiisai_kitty, come find me!**

**Also, the song from this chapter has been added to Backbeat's play list, which is linking in my profile. Links to the girls' disco costumes are also linked there.**

**Rock-tionary:  
-A Taste of Honey: The chapter's name comes from the band that sings "Boogie Oogie Oogie" as I mentioned above. They're seriously badass chicks for the disco era.  
-Smoke on the Water: A Deep Purple song that is the "Hot Cross Buns" of the rock world. Most people I know, know how to play it on something, even if it isn't the guitar/bass. I can play it on the recorder, the clarinet, and the piano. I'm also a dork.**

**I totally meant to mention this last chapter, but The Social (the club we were in in ch. 1) is a really place. It's in Orlando. I've never been, as most of their shows are 21+, but I understand it's a pretty cool place. As for disco night, I didn't really have a specific place in mind, but it's definitely a jazz club of some sort. We don't have anything like that near me unfortunately, so that locale is purely fiction. Everything else, for the most part, will be factual.**

**Ok, I'm done talking now. Let me know what you think!**

**-Sydney**


	3. Excuse Me, Mr.

**A/N: Hey everybody. I've established that rotation schedule I mentioned in Allegro, and next up is Stiletto, then Allegro, and then the cycle starts again with Backbeat. I'll finish Drawn sometime in there when I feel so inspired. I've also decided to start putting in quotes, a la some of the fabulous other writers, like Miss Construed, greenlemons, and many more, except I'll be using song lyrics. They'll usually be from the title song, but I have a few that fit from extra songs, so I'll add those to the playlist as well. I'm pretty sure that is all that is new, so I'll shut up now, lol.**

**Enjoy!**

Chapter Three- Excuse Me, Mr.

Well I've been waiting in line  
And I'd like to buy some of your time  
I'm very anxious, eager, willing  
-No Doubt, "Excuse Me Mr."

SPOV

I was upstairs in the kitchen when I heard a loud crash in the basement. And I mean loud. This was followed by a string of expletives from one very distinguishable Swede.

"It's Eric," Bill confirmed, taking the sandwich I was offering him. "He's yelling at Pam because none of Andre's songs sound right when she sings them." Aww, poor Pam. "Well, not at Pam specifically," Bill continued, picking up on my expression, "more like at the situation in general. But Pam's dishing back plenty, believe me."

Almost as if they were on cue, Pam came storming up from the basement. She whirled around at the top of the stairs, screamed, "Pussy!" down at Eric, and slammed the door behind her. Well, then.

"Good to see you this afternoon, Pammie. And so eloquent to boot!" I smirked at her as she noticed Bill and me in the kitchen. She returned the smirk before scooping up my much smaller frame into a hug. Pam wasn't fat or anything, she was just built like an Amazon. Thank you, Brick House.

"Sookie, I'm so glad you came. Not that it'll improve Eric's mood or anything, but I'm glad nonetheless," she smiled another toothy smile. Pammie was up to something. I just hoped it was the same something Bill and I were up to.

"Sandwich?" I offered.

"Sure. BLT?" she inquired, hopping up on the counter. I nodded and started to make more sandwiches.

"Eric just needs to fucking learn that of course it isn't going to sound right when I sing Andre's songs, and obviously I can't scream. Well, at least not in a musical sense," she added, snagging a piece of bacon. Pam was right, Lacey Mosley she was not. "He also needs to get his head out of his ass."

"I thought you just established that," I said, laughing as I grabbed the bread out of the toaster.

"I mean about you, Stackhouse. You're one of the best damn bassists out there, and Eric knows it. Plus, it wouldn't hurt to even out the band's hole to pole ratio." That Pam.

I handed Pam her BLT, grabbing one for myself as well. She pulled a six-pack of beer out of the fridge.

"We better get down there," Bill stated. "Eric's gonna start whether we're down there or not."

I followed Bill and Pam down into the basement, where Eric was still throwing shit around and cursing. His attention snapped to us as soon as we hit the landing.

"What the fuck is she doing here?" he all but growled; the she being me.

I opened my mouth to speak, but Pam beat me to it. "It's Bill's basement, you dick. Besides, we like Sookie. You should too." I couldn't have said it better myself.

"Fine…whatever. She can sit and watch."

"Thanks, sergeant," I retorted, rolling my eyes and plopping down on one of the couches. Eric looked like he had something to respond with, but he was silenced by the outside door opening. I watched in amazement as ten incredibly good-looking guys made their way into Bill's basement.

This whole situation would have been the shit that fantasies are made of…if some of these guys weren't here to audition for the spot that should have been mine. But some of them were there to sing, and that I could totally get into. I also noticed that Tray Dawson had made his way in too, and was currently talking to Pam, I shrugged.

"Okay. I know that a few of you came to audition together, so you all will go first." Eric had magically regained his composure somewhere in the last five minutes. "First two, whoever wants to start." The musician harem started to look around and at each other. That was when I noticed that they had segregated themselves: bassists on one couch, singers on the other, and the guys who came together were sitting closest to where the two couches almost touched. It was a rock star Venn diagram.

Two of the middle men stood up. One of them, the one with the bass guitar, was an average height for a guy (he wasn't Eric-tall or anything) and he had short, black, curly hair. From first glance, he also had an eyebrow piercing. At a second glance, and some speaking, he had a tongue ring too. The singer was about the same height and such, just with a more Hispanic coloring. Both his nose and eyebrow were pierced. "Names?" Eric asked.

"I'm Felipe de Castro, and this is Victor Madden," replied the singer, in a semi-thick Spanish accent.

"Song?" Eric prompted while they were setting up. Bill had told me this morning that the auditioners' material had to be an Area Five song. Made sense.

"Sooner or Later." I watched a mix of emotion pass across Eric's face before he locked down a bit. I think I was the first one to catch onto the why of it. It was because 'Sooner or Later' was a song that used two guitars, and the need for two guitars was something that hadn't crossed Eric's mind until now.

"We can't do that song." He looked pained as he spoke. "We don't have a second guitarist anymore." Eric kind of looked like a lost puppy. One that had just pissed on your shoe or eaten it. Cute and all, but still a pain in the ass.

"We can do it. I've got it," Pam piped up. She told me about six months ago that she was feeling kind of useless in the band. 'More like eye candy with pipes' was how she put it. Area Five's music was made up of a lot of duets, but it was also a lot of Andre's songs, with Pam supplying 'yeahs' or other such backup. Or her playing tambourine or some other percussion instrument. Which she hated ("Does anyone really play the tambourine anyway?"). There were a few Pam songs, but that was nothing compared to Andre's and the duets. I was the only one privy to her solution to this problem¾she'd decided to pick up guitar herself.

I guess she was choosing now to debut this new skill. Surprise!

Jaws had dropped all around that damn basement at Pam's declaration. She reached behind the couch I was sitting on and extracted an iridescent pink case. Everyone (but me) was transfixed as she pulled a pastel teal electric guitar out and went back to where she had been standing.

Dumbstruck, Eric mumbled, "Okay then," and moved behind his drum kit. Bill began the opening guitar riff, and Pam was quick to follow with the rhythm. I was pretty impressed with her progress over half a year. I was, however, not impressed by Mr. Madden the bassist. Even though he shared a last name with another bassist, skilled he was not. I didn't know the line to this song myself, but I had heard it before, and it didn't sound to complicated.

I felt like Victor was overcomplicating it. That, and he was just a shitty guitarist. The whole "package deal" thing wasn't looking too good for Felipe, who was actually pretty good. I looked over at Eric, whose face was an interesting mix of uninterested and angry. Something just told me he was pissed at Felipe and Victor (well, mostly Victor) for wasting his time.

The song finished and everyone remained in the same positions except Eric, who stood up and crossed the room. He ended up standing in front of my couch, with his ass in my face. It was a nice ass, for someone who was one the majority of the time. As soon as Eric moved, Bill plopped down next to me, pulling my feet up on his lap, while Pam carefully placed her guitar on a stand. She joined us on the couch shortly after.

Eric ran a hand through his hair before shaking it out and pulling it back.

"He's thinking of something to say," Pam whispered in my ear. Eric rubbed a hand over the scruff on his face, then widened his stance. "Aaaand…he's got something," Pam continued.

"There's really no delicate or tactful way to say this, so I'm just going to say it." Wait, when the fuck was Eric Northman ever tactful? He continued, "Are you willing to get rid of Victor, Felipe?" Silence descended on the basement. Bill took that moment to be a good host and take the members of the Venn diagram upstairs for drinks.

"What part of package deal didn't you understand, Northman?" Felipe spat back. Whoa snap.

"I guess the part where you didn't saddle yourself to a fucking shitty bassist. You're lucky I'm giving you the opportunity to fly solo. It's either that, or the door." Harsh, but kinda true. Victor did suck.

"The door then. Come on, Victor. I'd say thanks for the opportunity, but then I'd be lying." Victor heeled and then they both were gone.

Pam slid off of the couch and moved over to Eric. "Well, that was…fun. How about we call it a day and start working on some new material, with me on vocals and Sookie on bass." Poke the lion, why don't you, Pam? I readied myself for the verbal massacre that was about to occur.

Nothing happened. Well, Bill brought the rest of the auditioners back downstairs, but other than that, nothing happened. Eric glared at Pam and asked for the next duo auditioning to set up.

\---

The rest of the acts to audition went much like that first act. By the end of the afternoon, we'd heard a good chunk of Area Five's catalog. We'd also heard a good portion of Eric's colorful vocabulary, as he went off on each and every person to sing or strum for him. He was still fuming from the last guy, a muscle-bound, bald, tattooed guy named Quinn, when Bill nudged me.

"Are we still gonna do this?" he asked, gesturing to my guitar case, which I had deposited not so far from where Pam stashed hers at the beginning of practice.

"Have you seen him? And he already doesn't like me. I'd rather not die." I was only half joking. I finally understood why Eric played the drums; if he didn't have somewhere to release all that energy, he'd explode.

"He practically begged me to invite you over today when he told me about calling a practice at the jazz club." I highly doubted that.

"Fine, fine. Let's just do this, then Eric can yell again and we all can move on." I stood up, straightening out my Strokes t-shirt and picking up my case. I plunked it down on the couch in order to pull out my bass while Bill stealthed over and picked up his guitar. After some minor adjustments, he began the opener to "Excuse Me Mr." by No Doubt. I really don't know why we picked that song, except that it was good, had a really audible bass line, and the whole damn song was ironic. Okay, so I lied, I knew exactly why we picked this song.

I started playing right before Pam jumped in and started singing. She jumped around in her skinny jeans and boho top, doing a damn good impression of Gwen Stefani. It didn't take long to get Eric's attention. Everybody had left by that point, so it was just us, Eric, and Tray. At one point during our impromptu performance, I saw Tray make a start for the drum kit and Eric growled.

Fucking growled.

I'll admit, it was kind of hot.

Tray sat back down on the couch, and I watched Eric cross the room and…unplug the amps. Strum, strum, strum, no dice. Then he left. Jackass. Pam, now having no instrument to tend to, tore up the stairs after him, screaming obscenities and really laying into him. I turned back to Bill, who had his hands in his pockets and his guitar across his back.

"If any one can talk sense into him, it's Pam," Bill reasoned.

"I don't fucking care anymore, Bill. I'm sorry, I just don't. He's a dick, and if he doesn't want me in the band, then fine. I'm out of here though. I'll see you later." I felt bad, honestly I did, because the band was Bill's life, and my giving up was basically the nail in the coffin. All the guys they auditioned were on this same skill level as Madden, or worst, and it seemed that Volusia County didn't have too much to offer by way of freelance bassists. If Eric felt like either running the band into the ground or choosing one of those guys, because of a hang up, then that was fine by me.

I packed my bass back into its hard case before carrying it out to my car. I heard the door open and close again as I popped the trunk on my Sentra. "I mean it Bill, drop it," I huffed as I put the case in the trunk and closing it. The footsteps got closer. "Bill…"

I turned around.

It wasn't Bill. It was Eric. His hair was down again and his hands were jammed into the pockets of his ripped, dark wash jeans. He also had that sad puppy look again.

"Join the band?"

**In the words of Sookie: Whoa snap. This is the longest chapter of Backbeat so far, so whoa snap to that too, lol.**

**The playlist has been updated, the link is still on the profile.**

**-Sydney**


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